The Odds Are Better Together
by KLMeri
Summary: A collection of short drabbles about our favorite three! Mostly gen, some K/S/M. - COMPLETE
1. 1,2,3,4

**Title**: The Odds Are Better Together

**Author**: klmeri

**Fandom**: Star Trek TOS and AOS

**Characters**: Kirk, Spock, McCoy

**Disclaimer**: I humbly disavow any rights to Star Trek.

**Summary**: A collection of short drabbles about our favorite three! Mostly gen, some K/S/M. Ongoing.

* * *

**1.**

Jim is beating a PADD on the edge of the Captain's desk with heavy _thwap-thwap-thwap_'s. This gives the First Officer pause in the entryway. He approaches the man with caution and feels that he must explain to the Captain, "Captain, you are deliberately destroying Starfleet property."

"Yeah," Jim agrees and continues using the device like a hammer on a nail.

"You are accruing unnecessary supply expenses. May I inquire why?"

"It's better than being sent to a reform colony for assaulting my CMO."

"Ah." To Spock, who does understand the imbalance that Doctor McCoy can cause in a sane being, this is an acceptable explanation.

"My—Chief—Medical—Officer—drives—me—CRAZY." Each word is punctuated with a smart _bang_. Finally, the PADD can withstand no more abuse and breaks into pieces in Jim's hands. He scatters the bits across the desk, and with now empty twitching fingers, turns to Spock.

Vulcan discipline keeps Spock from taking a step back as a pair of crazy blue eyes lock onto his.

"What do you need, Spock?"

"Your yeoman notified me of your… irregular behavior."

"And you came to talk me down off the ledge?"

"Pardon, Captain?"

Jim lets out a deep sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I am still myself, Spock. No worries. Well—there's only one." He pauses. "You might have to search for Bones' replacement."

Spock says nothing for a moment. "I was unaware that Doctor McCoy intends to resign from his position."

That sets Jim to pacing across the room. "He's insane! What makes him think that the Enterprise is better off without him?" The Captain whirls around, points a finger at the Vulcan. "We need him, Spock!"

Now the situation becomes clear. Spock has noted McCoy's absence on the Bridge for the past few shifts. The Doctor must still blame himself for the incident on their last mission. Perhaps Uhura's not-so-subtle nudge to get Spock to visit McCoy in Sickbay was for more than medical reasons. (Indeed, it must have been because Spock is in excellent health.) He, even after one year aboard the Enterprise, is still not conclusive on the Doctor's behavior. The man's personality eludes solid logical thinking.

"Do you wish for me to speak with Doctor McCoy?"

Jim drops his arm and looks uncertain. "I-I don't want to be rude, Spock, but you and Bones aren't exactly on friendly terms."

"It is my responsibility to record the condition of the officers aboard this vessel and determine if they perform their duties as required."

"If you approach him with that explanation, you'll just add insult to injury. He'll think that you are criticizing his job—which he claims he can't perform anyway." Jim throws himself into a chair. "I've tried every tactic that usually works on him. He just won't come around and see the truth."

"What is the truth, Captain?"

"_Jim_. The truth is that Danvers would have died anyway at those sadistic bastards' hands, no matter what Bones agreed to do." There is pain in the Captain's eyes. "He thinks he is a liability to the crew."

"Negative. By Doctor McCoy's oath, he cannot harm. I suspect that even if he were not a doctor—bound by a doctor's pledge—then he would not intently cause injury to another being. Therefore, his actions were reasonable."

"You know that; I know that. How can we make him see it?"

Spock tilts his head just so, fixing his dark eyes on Jim Kirk. "The PADD you destroyed—did it contain the Doctor's resignation?" Jim nods. "Inform Doctor McCoy that you have the form ready for transmission to Starfleet. Invite him to a... _last meal_—" Jim grins here. "—a private one which you feel is necessary before his departure from the Enterprise."

Jim says, "Lure him in. I'm with you. And then what?"

"And then we will convince him of his value to this ship and her crew."

There is a fire in Jim's eyes now for the challenge that Spock suggests. Leonard McCoy is a stubborn man. Jim Kirk is twice as stubborn—but certainly more impressionable than a Vulcan. As a team, Jim and Spock will be a wall of tenacity. Bones doesn't stand a chance.

* * *

**2.**

On Spock's fourth (practically consecutive) visit to Sickbay to hover over the comatose body of the Captain, Leonard tells him, "Jim won't be awake any time soon, Spock."

"I am aware of this, Doctor."

"Then you got a reason for moping in my Sickbay when you know he's gonna be fine?"

"I fail to understand his reasoning for his actions."

Doctor McCoy props a hip against the foot-railing of Jim's biobed. "That's an easy one. Reason rarely has anything to do with his crazy stunts."

"He has no regard for his safety."

Leonard eyes Spock somewhat seriously. "That's why he needs a First Officer like you." McCoy narrows his eyes. "If you ever tell anyone I said this, Spock, I'll deny it—but I'm glad that the Captain's First Officer is Vulcan. Jim needs every ounce of logic and plain straight-thinking you can muster to keep him safe." The doctor is almost sad, then, as he turns to look down at his sleeping patient. "There might come a time when he does something so foolish, I won't be able to patch him back together. God help us all, I hope it never comes to that."

Spock thinks he understands. "I will perform my duties to the best of my abilities, Doctor," he promises. Then, with a surprising softening of his eyes, he adds, "I know that you will do the same. Perhaps it will be enough."

Leonard gives in to the smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. "I suppose I could make a deal with an emotionless computer. For Jim."

"Indeed, the Captain gives us sufficient cause to combine our skills."

"And our wits!"

"Undoubtedly." Spock turns on his heel, hands still clasp lightly behind his back. "I must return to the Bridge. I will expect a report on the Captain's condition in due time."

Leonard calls after his retreating back, "How about _Please!_" The Sickbay door slides shut. "Damn hobgoblin." If the words are said fondly, no one—awake and aware—is around to incriminate Len.

The Captain sleeps on, oblivious to just how protected he truly is.

* * *

**3.**

No one could ever claim that Mr. Spock delivers monotonic speeches. There's something about the way his sharp eyes browse his audience, how he maintains an elegant posture as he speaks, that lends a similar quality to his words as Jim's bright-eyed presence commands. No man can walk away while the Vulcan educates, questions, or muses—and certainly not when Spock chastises, either.

Doctor McCoy is the first hear the flatness of the Vulcan's voice and feel concern. So he purposefully works a dig at Spock into their very dull (duty-oriented) conversation, but the First Officer does not respond, not even with a lift of his eyebrow.

Leonard does what his job calls for—he examines to diagnosis. "Spock, forget the report for a minute. What's the matter?"

"I do not understand your question. Please rephrase."

"Are you ill?"

"My health is satisfactory."

"Then why are you acting so weird?"

"My behavior remains unchanged, Doctor."

"God dammit, don't play me for a fool! I can see that something is bothering you. Now either you can explain the problem to me—as your doctor—or I'll inform the Captain of my suspicions."

Spock is silent, then—and it's barely for a half-second that he drops his gaze. That's all Leonard needs to know. He takes the Vulcan by the arm and drags him down the corridor towards Sickbay. Spock, caught off-guard by McCoy's quick and unpredictable actions, pulls out of the doctor's tight hold by the time they are halfway to the turbolift. There might be some slack-jawed ensigns stopped dead still in the hallway, but neither plays them any attention. The two face off.

"I am functional, Doctor. You will desist in this erratic behavior."

"Oh no, you don't! Don't you dare walk away! I'll pull rank—I'll order you to come down to Sickbay!"

"On what pretense?"

"On the very big one that you're acting strange! And if memory serves me correctly, last time that happened you almost died!"

"Doctor McCoy," Spock actually lowers his voice (it's a bit deadly). "You will not speak of confidential matters in public. If you wish to ascertain my physical well-being, I will comply. I have little choice but to comply. Is that what you desire?"

Leonard steps up to Spock, in that instant, and says, "I'm worried about you, you blasted Vulcan! And yes, if an order is what I have to do to figure out how to help you, then by God, that's what I'll do." He leans back, arms crossed. "Now, the choice is yours: will you come willingly, or do I have to get others involved?"

Mr. Spock pivots and leads the way to Sickbay.

If Spock expects McCoy to leave well enough alone after he is declared fit by the medical tests (but not by Leonard himself), then he is seriously mistaken. While Mr. Spock sits on a biobed with his hands folded, Leonard is in the other room placing a call to the Captain on the bridge.

"McCoy here, Captain."

"Bones, have you seen Spock?"

"He's in Sickbay."

There is instant concern in Jim's voice. "What's the matter?"

"Asked him the same myself, Jim. That Vulcan is tighter-lipped than an Andorian schoolmarm."

"Want me to come down there?"

"Well, I ain't calling for chit-chat, Jim-boy."

"On my way. Kirk, out."

So it is that Spock faces not one irritated, gravely alarmed Human but two when he has need of a friend most.

* * *

**4.**

Three Starfleet officers are kicking up sand as they run for their lives. Literally. Behind them is a gigantic gruesome, six-legged creature with five-foot fangs, a rank smell, and the hungriest howl this side of the Beta Quadrant. It lopes, copious amounts of brown saliva trailing in the wind.

Jim, of course, is in the lead with Spock a close second—despite Vulcan capacity for speed. Bones is on both their heels because, while he might not be the fastest runner, he is intent on not becoming a crunchy snack for the scaly thing chasing them. Adrenaline has its perks.

Then there is a quick, echoing shout from Jim, who disappears right down a hole as sand gives way, Spock latched onto his back and dragged with him. McCoy, of course, has too much momentum to stop but it matters little because he would rather fall down a hole than eventually get caught and devoured. So down he goes too.

_Some minutes later…_

"Ow, that's my stomach! There's a boot in my stomach!"

"Well, that boot is attached to my foot so quit smacking it, Jim!" The Captain gets an angry shove into his soft middle.

"Do you require assistance?" inquires the Vulcan First Officer. Apparently Vulcans are descended from felines because Spock landed tidily on his feet—in the pitch dark—and left McCoy to crash onto Jim. (_Damn Vulcans!_) The Humans sort themselves out with no few curses and possibly a couple of (uncalled-for) slaps.

Eventually Jim wants to know, "Does anyone have a light?"

"Yeah, I'm carrying a torch in my pants, Jim."

This startles a laugh out of the Captain. "Seriously, Bones, when's the last time you had a decent shore leave?"

McCoy shuffles along in the dark until he is next to Jim (so he hopes). "Don't remember. When's the last time you had shore leave that didn't involve angry papas, spouses, or male relatives?" Leonard pokes the man's arm.

"Doctor, is there a reason for your prodding?"

Leonard almost jumps out of his skin. "Damn it, Spock! Is that you? I thought you were Jim."

"The Captain is on your right."

"Oh. Sorry about that." McCoy decides to scoot into the middle and stay put. "So who has a good idea on how to get us out of this hole?"

"I would suggest that we refrain for removing ourselves at this time."

"Why?"

"The creature is outside. It has a unique breathing pattern."

"Is that what that smell is?" Jim asks in a muffled voice.

"I doubt it remembers to floss after it eats, Jim."

Luckily, Spock's communicator remains uncrushed ("…_because he lands like a damned cat!"_), so he sets a frequency signal that will draw a Enterprise rescue crew—eventually _someone_ will come looking for the trio—to their hole in the sand. If Kirk, Spock, and McCoy are even luckier, the Security red-shirts will be quick enough to kill the monster before it gets feisty.

If only.

It's a long wait.


	2. 5,6,7,8

**Warning****: **8. hints of slash.

* * *

**5.**

It's raining debris. Jim makes a dive for shelter, executes a perfect roll and comes to his feet behind a large rock. Bones scoots over to make room for him.

The doctor yells through the noise, "Where's Spock?"

A phaser obscures part of Jim's face as he replies, "Gone left. Decoy."

Leonard doesn't like the sound of that. Any time the Captain or First Officer implement a plan, especially under attack, he has to sew one or both of them back together afterwards. McCoy cranes his neck as far left as he dares, searching through the cloud of dust and shrapnel for Spock. No sign of the Vulcan.

There is a resounding BOOM as a weapon hits too close to their cover, and the rock shakes a little from the aftershock. "Damn it," McCoy curses as he spits out dirt from his mouth. Jim is silent, focused, and assessing the situation like a pro. When the Captain starts to inch forward—at the enemy—Bones grabs the back of his uniform. "Just where the Hell do you think you're going, Jim! They'll blow you to pieces—ones I can't reassemble you out of!"

The Captain snaps, "Let go, McCoy! That's an order!"

Doctor McCoy is never good at following orders; he likes to think that instinct should take priority, and right now, his instinct practically screams _Stop Jim!_

So he uses the only arsenal he has. "If you go, I go!"

"Damn you, Bones! It's too dangerous!"

"But not for you, Jim? They're firing some kind of damn rockets! You'd make a pretty good target, with that blazing gold of yours."

Kirk's lips are thin with aggravation. McCoy has a moment to worry if Jim is actually going to stun him and head straight into battle anyway. Then there is a loud alarm blaring and the biggest fireworks display Len has seen in a long time. He and Jim peek over the top of the rock to the sight of the berserkers' artillery going up in flames. Out of the fire, almost at a trot, comes Spock.

"Well, I'll be damned."

"Captain," he says when he reaches the two officers. "I have successfully disarmed the Torites, and retrieved our communicators." He hands them each a device. "Shall we return to the Enterprise?"

"Yeah, Jim," McCoy says quite earnestly. "Let's get out of here before they figure out another way to kill us."

The Captain flips open his communicator, hails Scotty on stand-by, and orders their transportation immediately. Once in the transporter room, Jim says something very quietly to Spock.

The Vulcan responds, in his normal voice, "Captain, I calculate a probability of 87.6% in favor of injury to your person. In this case, I must agree with Doctor McCoy's actions."

McCoy, mid-halt in a quick briefing of his med team, says very loudly. "Why thank you, Spock!"

Spock turns to McCoy with a raised brow. "You are welcome, Doctor McCoy. I must thank you also, for halting the Captain's hasty decision to engage in personal combat with missiles."

McCoy beams in return. Jim just squares back his shoulders, muttering under his breath, and stalks from the transporter room.

_A job well-done_. Leonard congratulates himself and, silently, Spock. Jim lives to see another day.

* * *

**6.**

Doctor McCoy is weary. His hands ache, his brain aches, and he thinks he is developing an involuntary eye-twitch from too many stimulant shots in too short of a time.

_No matter_, he thinks. _The price is worth it._

He lightly runs a hand over the precious PADD on a lab tabletop. It contains the positive results of his recent testing—and the cure for Mr. Spock. There is little left to do now but send it on for replication of the vaccine. Before McCoy does this, however, he comms the Captain. Jim answers immediately—and he looks just as tired as McCoy must.

"Spock's gonna be fine, Jim."

There is a moment of silence on the other end as the Captain breathes deeply (regains his balance, possibly controls his reaction). His "thank you, Bones" is very rough.

McCoy smiles to himself and cuts the line.

Six days of frantic researching and testing; six days of worry and heartache for the unconscious Vulcan in his Sickbay; six days of no rest.

Six terribly long, exhausting days of self-recrimination, harsh demands, and trembling nerves.

It's over now and they are lucky. Spock will live and McCoy won't need to add his name to that private list of deceased patients he keeps. The saving of Mr. Spock won't prevent the nightmares, though; but once he wakes up, covered in sweat and tears, he will remember that he did his best.

And this time, thank God, it was enough.

* * *

**7.**

Jim and Spock are seated at a table not far from the hotel bar. "When does McCoy's friend get here?" Jim wants to know.

"Dr. Harlow should arrive in three minutes," Spock replies.

Kirk scowls into his beer and gripes, "Bones will have a _great_ time, I'm sure. They can discuss… doctorly things."

There is no need for Spock remark on Jim's words. The Captain is well on his way to embarrassing himself without aid.

Bones swings into the lounge with a little bounce to his step and a grin plastered on his face. He goes directly to the bar and orders a drink. Jim eyes the doctor from a short distance and grimaces. Spock calmly sips from his tea. Then Jim drops his beer back onto the table when a short, stout man (already balding) ambles over to the bar and says something to McCoy. If the look on Jim's face is anything to go by, he has suddenly switched his opinion—is now too pleased at the thought of this "friend" of McCoy's.

He leans over to Spock and asks in a whisper, "You think that's the guy? What's his field again?"

"Dr. Harlow is Head of the Neurobiology Department in the Novac facilities on this colony, with a medical degree—"

Jim waves off the rest of Spock's statement; clearly, the Vulcan has researched this person well. Kirk doesn't need too many details—just the right ones.

Bones squeezes the man's shoulder and says something that Jim can tell makes McCoy excited. Probably a highlight from one of his latest medical journals.

"Leonard!"

The call disturbs not only McCoy's conversation but has Jim whipping his head around in surprise. A leggy, gorgeous brunette in a short black cocktail dress walks right past his table and presents her hand to Doctor McCoy. Bones excuses himself from his companion, takes hold of her (did Jim mention she's gorgeous, already?) perfectly-manicured_ ringless_ fingers and drops a gentlemanly kiss onto her knuckles.

"Why, Sarah, you're prettier every time we meet!" he purrs in his Southern accent.

Sarah—the woman with the lovely face—kisses his cheek in return. "You sweet man! I'm so sorry that I'm late, Len. The things I have to do to keep my department in order –" She hooks her arm into his and they wander off, chatting all the while.

Jim goes back to sulking over his half-empty beer.

* * *

**8.**

McCoy shrugs off his blue science tunic and is in the process of pulling off his boots when Jim comes out of the bathroom.

"Long day at work, Bones?"

Leonard doesn't bother to reply, just falls back onto the Captain's bed and tosses a hand over his eyes. If he mumbles something then, it's too low for Jim to understand.

"Spock's got Beta shift this week."

The doctor just drags himself fully onto the bed and rolls over with his back to Kirk. Jim, of course, takes it as an invitation to fit himself against that back and sling an arm over Bones' middle. He plants a kiss on the brown-haired head and sighs with contentment. He's on the verge of sleep when fingers tangle with his (metal bands _clanking_), and Jim gives in to the smile lingering around the corners of his mouth.

If several hours later a certain Vulcan enters the Captain's quarters, adjusts the lighting, and lays an extra blanket over the two sleeping Humans, they will both be so dead to the world, neither will awaken. When they rise together, however, for the next shift, they never miss the little signs of Spock's caring. Soon enough it will be time to return the sentiment.

The good days aboard the Enterprise proceed on.


	3. 9,10,11,12

**9.**

It's all lies, McCoy knows. From Jocelyn's "it's just a late meeting, dear, don't wait up" to the lawyer's "Doctor McCoy is a busy man—he has no time for a child!" to the Starfleet recruitment poster with **Be a Hero, Serve in Starfleet **stamped in heavy bold letters.

Doesn't matter, though, in the end_._ Leonard accepts the lies that bear him down and trudges on. He's lost so much faith, he wonders if he will ever get it back. Even when he is trying to keep a man's guts from slipping out onto the table, there is no room for faith and little time for prayer. It's the work of his own two hands that bind the wound and save a life.

Trust no one but yourself, he repeats often.

Despite that he falls for an exuberant (_alive)_ man named Jim Kirk, trails devotedly in the wake of Jim's glory, he keeps his heart to himself with an iron, shaking grip and says _no_—no, Jim, love you too, but I won't.

When he meets an extraordinary non-human—a Vulcan—that makes his temper boil and his empathy swell, Leonard never takes that step to the foreground and admits that he might feel _more_. He buries the denial in a slew of insults and brash arguments. (He thinks that Spock sees through his blustering. Vulcans are perceptive.)

Leonard—_Bones_—_Doctor McCoy_—is a man with a cracked heart and thick walls of fear.

It takes years of hard work, to trust openly and without thought. It takes almost an entire five-year mission to bring Leonard out from behind those walls, to allow Jim and Spock on the other side. But when it happens, it's glorious, _right, _and perfect. Jim says "Never going to leave you, Bones" and he accepts that Jim won't lie. Spock touches his face, the corners of his eyes, and Leonard has found a little faith on which to cling.

Then the world crumbles again as Admiral Kirk takes the place of Jim, and Spock just goes away. They steal off into the night carrying the fragile remnants of Bones' broken heart.

(He never finds all the pieces.)

* * *

**10.**

Mr. Spock can recite the textbook meaning of the word change. As a Vulcan, however, he finds its application somewhat difficult (though he would claim _unnecessary_). Spock has routine and protocol. Lines are easy to follow—simple, logical.

Captain Kirk is the first zigzag to cross his path. The Vulcan stops, considers this new phenomenon, but proceeds on without a backwards glance. Then the cross-paths become more frequent—and distracting from his line. (Tempting.) The first time Mr. Spock takes a detour, he learns a valuable lesson. Kirk's path ends at the same destination, despite its non-linear approach. Spock goes back to trekking along down his path—the same old line—just a little wiser, a little more experienced in _change_.

Then he meets the curve that is Doctor McCoy. It's not sharp, like mathematical syntax, and a series of angles. The curve is almost wild in its gentle slope and, if he could admit so, daunting. Spock does not step onto the path of the circle for a very long time. In fact, he rails against it at first—pretends offense at the intrusion of his logical course. Eventually, however, a Vulcan with a fascination for all things new cannot resist a small (short/compact/terminating) experiment.

As it turns out, circular thoughts make Spock a little dizzy.

When Spock is much, much older and a lot more sage than the budding young Vulcan who only traveled by straight lines, he recalls his paths through life. He paints it on a canvas. The final piece blossoms into an artwork of beauty—with its sharp juts, twirls, stops and starts. It's a tale of his growth from one to three.

He presents this wisdom to those who are just beginning the journey. They listen to his words, ask questions like "were you afraid?" and "did it cost you your Vulcan principles?"

He answers, quite simply, that he outgrew his fear and that it cost little, yet gave him much in return.

* * *

**11.**

Kirk takes a last, hard look at the man in the agonizer booth and says a (very beautiful) phrase to his CMO: "I don't care what you do with him."

For Doctor Leonard McCoy, CMO of the ISS Enterprise, this is the best part of his job. He has the man strapped down to a long steel table—limbs, head, and middle. He pats the pale cheek and says with a kindness, not inherent in the lines of his face, "Don't want you making too much fuss, son." Then he slides a long needle through the soft flesh of the man's throat and injects a paralytic straight into the vocal cords with a precision that speaks of experience.

Leonard pauses, after that moment, to observe the stark terror in the man's eyes and the cold gleaming of his white exposed skin. Then he unrolls the tools of his trade, touching each scalpel, hook, and saw lovingly. (_Always honed, always prepped._) Next comes tight-fitting gloves and a small mask to protect his nose and mouth from blood-spray. (_To hide a soft smile_). McCoy picks up the first instrument from the long line.

"Such a foolish man, to go after the Captain." He runs the blade across the sternum—ignoring the tremble of the body beneath—not breaking skin, just caressing. "But I'll tell you a secret…" The doctor leans in with bright blue eyes. "I'm sorry ya didn't succeed, my friend."

Leonard may love this job, but he knows that his skills will get him a fine position anywhere in the Empire. Men like the Doctor always have plenty of (live) toys because of schemes and plots gone awry. But McCoy doesn't like to be beholden to one man for too lengthy a time—especially not James T. Kirk. (Such a ruthless bastard.)

"The Captain takes too many risks for my tastes," he confides in a whisper as he makes the first cut through the epidermis. "I like quiet—" The ensign's mouth gapes wide but silent. "—honest work."

Later, First Officer Spock comes to Sickbay and Leonard hands him the recording of the night's procedure without fuss. Kirk has his entertainment for dinner—and a ship-wide warning for those crewmen unwise enough to speak of sharp blades deep in Captains' hearts.

Leonard grins at the Vulcan, who remains untouched (and untouchable). Yes, just those who thoughtlessly open their mouths and seal their fate. The silent plan, however, is another matter entirely.

* * *

**12.**

"We look ridiculous, Jim."

"I must agree with Doctor McCoy." Spock adjusts the helmet that tries to slide down his face.

Kirk's not laughing with his mouth, though he shows signs of wanting to very much. McCoy scowls. "Don't strain yourself on our account. Go ahead. Laugh it up."

Jim grins at them both, but he's not so stupid as to give McCoy another reason (in a long, long list of reasons) to make his Sickbay physicals Hell. He merely says, "The costume department ran out of robes and smocks."

McCoy flaps the sleeve of his gown. "So I had to go as the princess! You—"

"Bones, you're skinny enough to wear it."

This just makes McCoy's face redder. "Yeah, well, in case you haven't noticed—" He plucks at the front of his pale blue dress. "—I'm lacking something here!"

Kirk's grin just grows and his eyes twinkle. "Oh, I noticed."

Luckily, Spock is out of range of the flying spittle. "Captain, I find that my movements are impaired in this… uniform." The metal pieces grate together and _clank-clank-clank _as the Vulcan tests his joint movements. "If I could—"

"No can do, Spock. Besides, Princess McCoy here needs a champion."

McCoy screeches so loud it offends Spock's ears. "Just wait, _Captain_, until I get you alone without witnesses—I'll jam a hypospray so far up—"

Spock says, "Doctor McCoy lacks the etiquette of royalty. Perhaps—"

This swings McCoy's attention from direly threatening the Captain's nether regions to a hopeful possibility. "Yeah, I'm just an old country doctor. Spock is certainly more _genteel_." He draws out the word. "Let him wear the dress, Jim!"

"O—"

"No," Spock says a little too quickly for Vulcan posterity. "I find this attire suitable. Shall we proceed to the planet, Captain?"

Jim leads the way to the transporter room with a (lovely) McCoy swooshing behind him and Spock awkwardly not-waddling down the corridor at a much sedater pace. If Jim licks his lips in anticipation of the coming adventure, neither McCoy nor Spock can see him do so.


	4. 13,14,15,16

**Warning****: 13. Torture.**

* * *

**13.**

McCoy cannot hold back his scream as one of the Things digs the tip of a plier under his nail bed and slowly peels off another fingernail. He wants to pass out from the pain (and horror), but they've injected him with a cocktail that keeps his brain sharp and sensitive to stimulus.

"Human," another inquires politely from behind the chair to which he is bound. A bony, cold hand (appendage?—it's three-fingered) weighs down his shoulder, another hand grasps his chin and wrenches his lolling head to the side. "Are you ready to answer my question? Or shall we continue?"

Leonard's tongue is swollen from fierce biting (which did no good, he screamed anyway); it feels like a lump in his mouth, makes it hard to speak coherently. So he settles for a slow shake of _no_, and the hand releases his head which drops back down to his chest.

He almost doesn't want to be rescued because his shipmates (friends, peers) will discover the shame of his breaking. These _monsters_—cruel, tortuous—are ripping his mind to pieces bit by bit as they massacre his hands, destroy the crux of his career. They haven't begun amputation yet_; small favors, really_, Bones thinks.

Leonard is here because no one should be left behind—especially not an Enterprise crewman for whom the CMO is responsible. In that bare second of a moment, the decision was easy. Turn around, save the life. Dangerous? Yes. Foolish? Perhaps. Regrettable? (He hears the echo of "_Bones!_" and "_Come back!_")

McCoy allows his mind to wander as his torturer pauses to change tools.

Does he wish that he had never turned back? (Can Leonard deny his gut instinct?)

_No._ Should he lose his ability to doctor, he will weep over his broken hands but not hate himself for making the right choice. Never turn a blind eye to someone in need—this creed is entrenched in the essence of McCoy. A sin of omission is still a sin.

Should he lose his sanity or his life, well… It would be an ending, regardless. (The idle question: Can you regret when you are gone?)

Jim and Spock. Those are his only two worries now. If he _could _regret his actions at all, it would be for the sake of their heartbreak.

* * *

**14.**

The Captain listens with a small smile and attentive eyes as an excited yeoman brags about his newborn. The man is bursting with pride. He is young, a first-time father—and claims to be the luckiest man alive. Kirk squeezes the yeoman's shoulder and offers to grant leave so that the new parent can revel in the precious beginnings of fatherhood. This sends the man into a daze, as he shakes the Captain's hand and bolts down the corridor to pack.

McCoy stands to the side, watchful. When Jim remains still for a moment too long, Bones steps up to him, runs a hand along the top of his back. "Care for a drink?" Jim accepts.

Leonard is pouring the proper medicinal amount of brandy as he idly says, "You've made Yeoman Liu a very happy man."

"It's the least I could do, in congratulations," Jim replies just as idly. "Let him enjoy some quality time with his family."

_Oh Jim._ McCoy slides Kirk's drink over to him. "I remember when Jo was born. Now, don't let anybody fool ya, Jim, my boy. A newborn is _not_ pretty as a picture." McCoy chuckles into his drink.

Jim leans back in his seat, eyes on McCoy.

"But—" A fond smile grows on the doctor's face. "—when it's yours, she's beautiful all the same. Jo was so tiny in my hands—I swear to you, it was the most surreal moment of my life."

Jim drops his eyes, then, to the table. McCoy reaches out and places a hand over one of Kirk's. "You're a wonderful man, Jim. I'm_ so_ _sorry_—" Len chokes here, momentarily, with emotion, "—that you were denied David's first moments in this world."

That strong hand under his shifts, clings. "It's alright, Bones. I'm okay."

"You will be one day, Jimmy. David will understand. I promise."

It's a promise made with the best of intentions, from the dearest of hearts. In Jim's eyes lingers a small hope (a belief) that his friend will be right.

* * *

**15.**

Leonard shakes the water from his hair like a dog. Spock takes one distasteful step back from the wet Human.

"Ah, c'mon now, Desert Boy! Live a little!" McCoy vigorously rubs at his hair with the towel Spock so kindly offered. "The water's nice and _cool_."

"Leonard, my core body temperature will—"

"Damn it, Spock! I know better than most exactly how your body will react! You'd be fine if you put on a thermal suit…"

"Unnecessary if I do not desire to swim."

McCoy rolls his eyes. "Look at Jim." They both turn to peer at the bright blob floating some distance out at sea. "Doesn't he look happy?"

"At this distance, I am unable to verify his 'happy' expression, Doctor."

Leonard switches tactics. "What if Jim were drowning—"

Spock opens his mouth, but Len cuts him off.

"—AND I were unable to help save him, Spock. What would you do?"

Spock is silent.

"You'd go out there and retrieve our Golden Captain. So don't tell me that water makes you ill!" McCoy is deeply satisfied at this parting shot. (McCoy wins again!) He flings his wet towel at the Vulcan, which Spock side-steps easily (water-laden towels don't travel well or far).

"Doctor—"

"Now get in that ocean, you blasted Vulcan!"

"—McCoy—"

"I'm serious, no more excuses—"

"—Jim is no longer visible."

"Huh?" McCoy swings around with wide eyes. Sure enough, there is a person-less float and no sign of their troublesome third. "SHIT!"

As it turns out, Vulcans can swim rather well—and quickly—if they must. By the time they drag a hacking Jim to the shore, McCoy is significantly impressed with Spock's skills in the water. Jim coughs out more seawater and demands that Bones and Spock explain why they (almost successfully) attempted to drown him. (Jim Kirk can hold his breath in a dive for more than two minutes, thank you very much!)

Somehow, Leonard finds the entire situation pretty damn hilarious. Jim and Spock just stare at McCoy when he falls back onto the hot sand, laughing so hard that he cries.

* * *

**16.**

"Where's Bones?" Jim shifts his weight from foot to foot impatiently in front of the turbolift.

Spock refused to wear a costume, unlike the majority of happy, strangely garbed crewmen running up and down the halls of the Enterprise. Kirk, himself, is dressed in green tights and tunic, with a quiver of arrows slung over his back. He is missing his bow, however, which irks him to no end. It's not like Jim would actually SHOOT an ambassador at this little soiree. He has a margin of diplomacy. Starfleet regulations are pain in the Captain's ass more often than not.

The turbolift doors slide back and another horde of carousing people empty into the corridor, pushing past the Captain and First Officer without thought. Kirk yelps and surreptiously puts his back to Spock. (Some unknown hand just pinched his bottom quite hard.)

There is a single figure left in the lift, lazily leaning against one panel. Kirk starts with the cowboy boots, travels up those long legs, pauses at the (non-empty) halter slung much too low on cocked hips, black vest over a shirt with its first three buttons open and a red little cross-tie hanging down—finally, to the black hat tilted down over the man's face.

When the hat rises, Jim meets a pair of amused blue eyes. _God, it's Bones._

"Might wanna shut your trap, Robin Hood, lest you catch something nasty." McCoy uncrosses his arms and ankles, tucks his hands into his back pockets and eyes his Captain strangely (fervently). "Goin' down?"

Spock answers for them both. "Yes." Jim files into the lift behind Spock almost dumbly. After one minute of silence, he manages to clear his throat.

"That gun loaded, Bones?"

Leonard gives him the wickedest smile he's ever seen. "You bet it is." He shoots a quick glance at Spock. "Got a feeling it might come in handy later tonight."

Jim has no response for that, merely tugs his tunic down with nervous hands.

* * *

**So... I'm planning on closing this collection out at the 20th drabble. Hope ya'll have enjoyed these pieces! KSM IS LOVE! :D**


	5. 17,18,19,20

**Warning****: 17. & 18. are general-ST, rather than general-trio. Sorry, they needed to be written. Enjoy these last pieces! **

* * *

**17.**

The scene is heavy with silence. As the Enterprise glides through space, its hull shimmers in the starlight. Inside this ship is a crew waiting with bated breath. They know what's coming, know that it cannot be stopped and that the Enterprise cannot outrun an onslaught that will disintegrate metal and flesh in the span of three seconds.

A wave of electric, _burning_ shock, natural and beautiful for all its destructiveness.

Some crew cling together in groups, saying desperate goodbyes or making soft admissions; a few stand alone, separated.

One such is the Captain of this vessel. He bears a height that speaks of pride and survival of toil. Does this man, who refuses to believe in the no-win scenario, admit defeat in the final moments of his command? Of his life?

Does he truly stand alone?

His Bridge crew is behind him, not with him, at their stations. Yet if one looks closely, their focus is not inward but on their leader—even when the cold truth remains that he can do nothing to change fate. Still, they whisper _Kirk_ and count themselves lucky to have served under such an honorable Captain.

If—no, _when_—the ship goes down, Kirk goes not alone. He stands braced against his seat—the symbol of his duty—and meets that which is Death unyielding and strong-jawed. And those members of his crew—of his Bridge crew, in particular—will rise from their seats in the last few seconds and think _Glory be to the Enterprise!_ They circle that man—James Tiberius Kirk—drawn, as always, to his strength, courage, and character.

They go in union, spread into a billion particles across the deep black of space.

* * *

**18.**

"Take me! I'm the Captain!"

"No, I'm the Captain!"

"I'm the Keptin!"

A loud chorus echoes into the rafts of the hall. The (newly discovered) inhabitants of this planet look at one another in confusion. When they had said "Bring us your leader!" they had not expected five leaders (_Captain?_ Is this the alien word for leader?)—and including a female—of the intruders on their homeworld.

Gorek, a tall stooping fellow, gestures at the most straight-backed alien of the group. "You are the—Captain?"

The pointy-eared, slightly greenish one has a very closed expression, though he answers coolly enough. "I am Acting Captain of the starship Enterprise."

What is_ Acting_? So he's the Leader?

Gorek is interrupted in his musing as another, a rather loud one, interrupts with "He's a fool, that's what he is!" Then a second two-legged creature steps forward and holds out an appendage. "I'm Captain McCoy, pleasure to meet ya'll."

A'gak prods Gorek in his fleshy neck. He asks lowly (somewhat fearfully), "Is the bearing of his teeth a sign of aggression?" The rest of Gorek's clan shift with apparent nerves.

The giant Gorek just grunts. He, too, would like to know. No matter. If necessary, they are such a small bunch that he could perhaps crush them (if they don't scatter too fast). Violence makes him queasy, though. He hopes they aren't aggressive.

Gorek focuses again when he realizes that one of them is waving a device at his lower tentacle. It says to another, the silent one, "Mr. Spock, we need that communicator—the rest are broken! Should I—shoot at it or something?"

What is a Spock? Such strange little aliens!

Another speaks, the one who says worse gibberish than all of the rest. "They're huge, like the giants of Russia! I will distract them. Uhura can sneak over—"

The loud-mouthed one yells again. "Hell you will, Chekov! I ain't gonna fill you back up with air if you get squashed like a Junebug!"

"But the Keptin—"

"Well, Jim isn't here! And a good thing too, 'cause he'd already be killed flatter than dead by now!"

Then the aliens seem to be squabbling (deciding on a plan of attack?), all except for the green fellow that keeps both eyes on them the whole time. Gorek leans over when A'gak shoves something under his nose. "What's that?"

"Don't know, found it on the floor. So tiny! What do you suppose it does?" A'gak is still a child, really; sometimes too curious for his own good.

"Put it back."

"But—"

"Put it back NOW."

The BOOM of his voice startles the aliens enough that one of them tips over with a squawk. A'gak drops the thing dead-center between the two groups with one of his shorter tentacles. This seems to astonish the aliens.

Gorek is still confused. Why are they here? What do they want?

(Aliens make his bowels clench.)

Are they like those severely ugly little invaders? The mean ones, who stomped around (kind of hilariously, given their small stature) and made strange demands about an—Empire. Yes, that was the word. After Gorek was forced to swat a few away—they blasted him, which tickled—they gave up and disappeared. (Luckily, not to return again.)

These aliens don't seem as terrible; they have yet to tickle him with their devices or swarm around and rant.

When the female (Gorek can sense this easily, her gender radiates differently) picks up the thing that A'gak dropped, she says words that he does not understand. "Thank you. We'll leave you alone now." Then they are gone in a flash of lights, and Gorek is grateful.

He turns to A'gak and chastises, "Don't touch alien artifacts!" A'gak emanates a pout.

The giant burbles his relief. Another disaster averted!

* * *

**19.**

Leonard looks at the Vulcan, who is intently hunched over at the science station, and knows that this is going to be one Hell of a five-year mission.

Of course, then said-Vulcan turns around and states, "Doctor, your presence is not allowed on the Bridge."

Scratch that. This five-year mission is going to be HELL, pure and simple. How is an old country doctor like Leonard McCoy going to be able to deal with the ramrod-backed _Mr. Spock_ (who must be nothing more than an emotionless calculator of a living being)? He wonders if the Vulcan will recite violated regulations even while he's being whacked on the head with a medical tricorder.

(_Just testing for hollowness up there, Spock!_)

Then one James T. Kirk slowly turns in his Captain's chair and addresses Mr. Spock loudly enough for the entire Bridge crew to hear—not that they don't have their ears perked anyway. "Bones can come to the Bridge if he wants to, Spock."

The Vulcan raises one of those damnable eyebrows. (Len's a little jealous because it can go higher than his own.)

Kirk adds, "The CMO of _my_ ship has access to all decks."

McCoy bounces on the balls of his feet, barely refraining from tacking on his opinion. _Needs access 'cause he already knows full-well how you crazy you are, Jim!_ Leonard settles for grinning at Mr. Spock instead.

Score one for Doctor McCoy. Maybe the next five years won't be so bad after all. Leonard bets that he can teach this Vulcan a thing or two.

Then his mind wanders in a more vital direction. Now who's got the liquor supply on this blasted ship? He casts an experienced eye over the other crew. There's a Scotsman right about McCoy's age hanging over another console to his left.

Bingo.

* * *

**20.**

Normally, Leonard is wary when a group of natives wants the Enterprise crew to participate in some (dangerous or absurd) ritual. He's had to remove unsanitary objects from unspeakable places on unfortunate ensigns; he's seen Spock try to imitate a caper upon a sea of flower petals (that's by far McCoy's favorite recollection); and he clearly remembers that time the Captain was designated an official harem boy of the Great Jaewah—a dour little man with an eye for "hair like ripe wheat."

Today, he thinks, might be the exception.

A small group of five or six native musicians begin what McCoy must assume is their traditional wedding song. Even if it sounds a bit tacky to Leonard, a man who has actually marched down the aisle before, he won't spoil the ceremony over such a trivial detail.

Spock approaches the altar first, in his usual manner—hands clasped behind his back and expression serene. Len can see the gleaming of those dark eyes from far, far away. Jim grins on his march, looks so happy (and gloriously golden) that it makes Leonard's heart beat a little faster and his stomach fill with the proverbial butterflies. Then Jim and Spock are standing together, touching hands and sharing unspoken words. As one, they turn to await McCoy.

He thinks horrifyingly for a second that his legs won't work, but after catching Jim's bright (beckoning) gaze and Spock's smiling eyes, Leonard takes the first step. The rest are easy, then, and the walk is so surreal that he will barely remember details like the soft dirt under his boots or the crowd of cheerful faces. He'll only think about the elation filling up his lungs and the sight of Jim and Spock waiting for him.

When Leonard stops in the middle between them, Jim leans in and kisses him. The native chieftain—and minister—makes a sound of disapproval.

Spock says softly, "Jim, you cannot seal the bond until the ceremony is performed."

Jim just keeps on grinning, not the least bit repentant. McCoy doesn't roll his eyes or complain—though he has good cause. After all, didn't Jim and Spock just blatantly share a few Vulcan kisses a moment ago? Oh well, what the natives don't know won't hurt 'em.

The ceremony is short and to the point, just as Len prefers.

The chieftain points at Spock, says, "Do you accept these men as your mates, promise to share the joy of Life with them unto the Great Beyond?"

Spock replies, "I so accept. We will be One."

The same question is repeated to Jim, who never gives pause in his "I accept."

Leonard doesn't even need the question, but he waits politely for the chieftain to speak. His answer is "Yes, I accept them both."

The native declares them bound in holy matrimony and a great_ hurrah_ goes up. Jim grabs Bones by the shoulders, asks Spock mischievously, "Now?" The Vulcan agrees "now" and Jim steals Len's breath right from his lungs. Then he moves onto Spock, who leans in graciously, before allowing Bones a turn to kiss the Vulcan bride.

So it is that they get married for the first time on a humble little planet called Trilla, and Bones doesn't mind much at all.

* * *

**Note****: We got an ending and a beginning, some K/S/M goodness and a rare POV. Thanks for playing along! My brain is going to marinate in other plot bunnies now. Until we meet again, over Story, my dear readers.**


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